This is a Sherlock-fic I've been writing together with a lovely person called Bethany. We've done parts in turns, and it's been great fun. It's long, so we've decided split it in chapters, even though it's already completed.
John. This might come as a shock, but... I'm alive. -SH
That's fine, take your time. I understand it's a difficult notion to process. -SH
Where are you? Who is this? JW
Come on, John, I thought that was obvious. It's me. I'm alive. Huzzah. -SH
Where. Are. You. JW
I can't tell you that. I promised Harriett I'd tell you I was alive, and so I have. But I can't tell you where I am or you'd do something foolish and get yourself killed. –SH
I'm going to look for you. And when I find you, I'm going to hit you so hard you wish you were dead. JW
I'd expect nothing less. –SH
How can you. Be Alive? I saw you jump. JW
Simple really. You only saw what I wanted you to see - why do you think I made you stay there? But that's not really the point of this. I need you to do something for me, John, something dangerous. –SH
Why should I do something for you? YOU LET ME BELIEVE YOU WERE DEAD. JW
If I hadn't jumped, then you wouldn't be here now, John. I couldn't let them do anything to you. I had to. And now you have to do this, or everything I've worked towards will be for nothing. –SH
...What is it? JW
I need you to get into Lestrade's office and take the files he has on that kidnapping that we worked on. He can't know I'm alive, so you'll have to be... discreet. –SH
Can't you just ask him? JW
Did you miss a part of the last text, John? He can't know I'm alive. No one can. I'm taking an incredible risk telling you, but I just couldn't do it alone. Trust me, I tried. –SH
Okay, I'll try. JW
I knew you would. Once you have them, give them to the Jeff, the homeless guy outside that Chinese place we like. –SH
Does he know you're alive? JW
No. But he knows what to do with it. –SH
You should probably also get rid of your SIM card now. They could trace these messages and then you won't be the only person to know my secret. –SH
You sure are expecting a lot. JW
When have I ever expected anything less? You must do this, John. Perhaps... perhaps we could meet up afterwards. –SH
I'll do this. How will I know if you get the files?
I'll get them. But... if you go to Jeff next week, he'll have something for you. –SH
Okay. I'm throwing my SIM card now. How will you find my new number? JW
Put it on your blog, it's what you normally do. I've noticed you haven't updated it in a while though. –SH
What is there to write? You're not here. JW
John did as Sherlock had told him, cut his SIM card in two, and threw it in a rubbish bin on his way to the police department. He figured he could hide behind asking Greg out for a pint.
He started to turn his lapels up against the cold wind but caught himself. No, that was what Sherlock did. After weeks of missing his friend, he had taken to adopting his mannerisms in an attempt to fill the gap. But he couldn't do it anymore. No, there was only one Sherlock Holmes. And he was back.
He let out a bark of laughter as the shocking relief bubbled up inside. He forced it down with several deep breaths - he was near the department and it wouldn't do to look too happy. Not when everyone thought Sherlock was still dead.
John went in the front door, almost crashing into Donovan. She cast him a look and he swore he saw pity in his eyes before she walked away fast. He went straight to Greg's office. Greg sat behind his desk, carefully reading what John figured had to be the kidnap file he had to give to Sherlock.
Greg looked up startled. "John, I... Bloody hell John, I'm glad to see you." He stood and got a good look at the doctor. The weeks of grief had obviously taken their toll. His face was gaunt and pale, as if he hadn't seen sunlight in days and his clothes were ruffled. Greg wasn't surprised at the state he was in - since Sherlock had jumped, no one had seen John for days.
"Hi, I'm glad to see you too! Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to go out for a pint... Tonight, or some other night." John added the last part with a bit insecure voice. He didn't dare to look the DI in the eyes, in case some of the relief from finding out Sherlock was alive was somewhere to be found in there.
The request shocked Greg - he hadn't pegged John for a 'drown-your-sorrows' type. But then again, grief did strange things to people. He looked at the clock. Still half an hour before I can officially clock off, he mused. But then again, who would really pull him up on it? John needed someone to talk to, that much was certain. If Greg could somehow help pull John out of his depression, he would do everything in his power to help. For Sherlock's sake. He smiled and grabbed his coat.
"Alright. Let's go."
John thought quickly. What could he do to make Greg leave the room for just a bit, so that he could take the file? "Uhm, but I think Donovan wanted to talk to you about something. She asked me to tell you to go down to her." Greg looked startled for a second, but nodded. "Okay, meet you down in the hall, then." Greg went out and headed for Donovan's office. John had a slight panic attack. He hadn't thought through what he would have to say when Donovan denied to ever have said that. He had no time to panic, however, and took the file and put it under his coat, leaving the office quickly.
He reached into his pocket and took out his phone to text Greg. "Sorry about this, but I've left my wallet at home. I'll meet you at the pub? -JW" He hoped that this wouldn't sound too feeble an excuse, but it was the only thing he could think of that would give him enough time to get the file to Jeff. He raced down the hall and out onto the busy London street, heading for the Chinese.
It didn't take him long to find Jeff, he'd seen Sherlock talking to him before. He still didn't look like much. John felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, and read the short reply from Greg before walking all the way up to the homeless guy. "Okay, meet you there. GL" John decided it would be best if he just walked past Jeff fast, giving him the file without stopping, and that was exactly what he did. When Jeff, who seemed to have expected it, had taken the file, John went quickly home, just in case someone should be following him.
As the door closed behind him, John felt a shiver of adrenaline climb up his spine. He remembered this. He remembered how much he loved the espionage, the secrecy, the thrill of the chase just like how it always was when Sherlock was alive. Without him, John's life just didn't have any more spark and honestly... there were times when he felt like he would never live that way again. He smoothed his hand over his face as he realised that he would never again feel alive if Sherlock wasn't with him. It was as if he was only one half of a whole and now that Sherlock was back, John was complete.
He smiled and laughed, until tears fell from his eyes as he let the realisation hit him. Sherlock was back and within a week, John would have something of his and all would be well again. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath to sober up. He owed Lestrade a drink.
He went out again in the cold wind, but it didn't feel so bad. He wondered what he was going to say to Greg about Donovan. Luckily, the problem turned out to have solved itself. "Donovan had left when I came down to her. Probably wasn't anything important," Greg said, before pointing at the chair opposite him, and the beer that already stood there. "I ordered for you, hope you don't mind."
"Thanks. Listen, Greg, I... I'm sorry I-"
"No need to apologise, John. I know what he meant to you and I know you needed time. I'm just glad you're out of the flat now. Have you talked to anyone else since he... that day?"
John shook his head. He didn't really want to talk about Sherlock in case something would slip out, so he changed the subject. "How's work going? Any new cases?"
Greg looked like he was about to push the matter, but thought better of it. "Nothing much, just the usual stuff. The chief has everyone looking through the old files to see if it really was all... but that doesn't matter." He downed the rest of his pint and motioned to the bartender for another.
John didn't know what to say. Maybe going out with Greg had been a bad idea. He was so eager about knowing Sherlock was alive, and he couldn't think of anything else than what Jeff would have for him next week. Trying to not think so much, he downed his pint with Greg.
Greg shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with how the evening was going. He was never very good at talking to people that had just suffered from a loss like this. It was one of the things that made his job so difficult for him. Perhaps he shouldn't try to talk about Sherlock anymore - perhaps what John really needed was some normalcy, something to distract him from the gaping hole that Sherlock had left. "So... Manchester City won the cup. You watch it?"
John swallowed a laugh. Poor Greg, this wasn't any easier for him. "Yeah, great game," John said, who vaguely remembered watching something with a football in it. He emptied his second pint.
Greg was relieved that he finally had something to talk about and set off rambling about the machinations of the game. John tried to appear interested, nodding and giving the occasional 'yeah' whenever it was needed. His mind, however, was in turmoil, running through all the reasons that Sherlock might have needed to fake his own death and why he needed the kidnapping file.
After finishing his fifth pint, John realized he needed to go home. He could already feel he was affected by the alcohol, and it was better to finish now, before he said anything stupid. He got up from his chair, realizing he wasn't all that steady on his feet. "I think I'm going home now," he said.
He also wanted to go home and think about Sherlock, and about what was waiting on him. Next week was a long time.
Greg nodded blearily, standing up himself. "It were nice t'see ya, John," he slurred as he gathered his things. John clapped the DI on the back and watched him as he made his way to the door. He was sorry for the trouble that he had caused him, but it was for Sherlock and he knew that eventually Greg would understand. He always did. He took off walking towards the flat, barely able to contain his excitement. He didn't know how he was going to make it through the next few days, but what he did know was that the wait would be worth it.
Tell us what you think!